Thomas Andrews Jr.Mature

It was close to one in the morning as Thomas Andrews lied in his bed asleep, in the medium sized stateroom he was in. As the ship made a loud blaring sound, Andrews turned slightly onto his back and yawned. He slowly opened his eyes and saw only darkness. He frowned and sat up in bed and looked all around the dark stateroom. Wait, the stateroom? How did he end up in a stateroom? Why wasn't he in the bedroom of his home in Ireland? As Andrews pondered these questions silently while staring all around the room, he eventually realized exactly where he was - in his stateroom on the Titanic. How did he end up back on there? Especially when the Titanic sank months ago, how was it that he was back on the ship? Suddenly a bright, white spotlight flashed in front of him. Andrews stared at the light with an eyebrow raised. In the middle of the spotlight was a tall, slender, white woman with long, shoulder length, red hair that was soaking wet, there were big, black circles under her wet eyes. Her face was drenching wet as was her clothes. Andrews stared at the woman with confusion.

"Who are you?" Andrews asked. "How did you get in here?

The woman stared at Andrews with cold rage.

"Ya KNOW who I am!" The woman yelled in a loud, echoing voice with an Irish accent. "I'm the MOTHER, the SISTER, the AUNT, NIECE and WIFE of every woman who DIED on the Titanic because of YOU!"

Andrews frowned with slight hurt. He slightly shook his head.

"What?" Andrews asked in a slightly nervous voice. "I - I -"

"WHY?!" The woman yelled in a voice so loud, that it was almost ear splitting to Andrews. "WHY didn't you build a BETTER ship! YOU said Titanic was all the lifeboat we needed and YA LIED! YA LIED!"

Thomas Andrews stared with a deep frown of hurt, tears filled his eyes, he shook his head quickly.

"No! No, I - I tried!" Thomas Andrews said through a lightly tearful voice. "I did my best to make Titanic as best I could -"

"NO!" The woman interrupted. "YA LIED! YOU LET US ALL DIE IN YOUR DEATH SHIP! YOU FAILED!"

Thomas Andrews blinked away tears, still with his deep frown as suddenly hundreds of women and men, both young and old and children instantly appeared behind the woman with the red hair. The other women, men and children were all drenching wet and ghostly pale with black circles under their eyes. They looked like frightening ghouls. They all stared at Andrews with rage.

"FAILURE! FAILURE! FAILURE! FAILURE! FAILURE!" The women, men and children all chanted repeatedly in loud, angry voices.

The women, men and children slowly started marching towards Thomas Andrews and his bed while continuously chanting.

"FAILURE! FAILURE! FAILURE! FAILURE! FAILURE!" The women, men and children continuously chanted.

As Thomas Andrews started scooting back towards the bed's headboard in slight fear of the women, men and children that were marching angrily towards him. He shook his head again as the women, men and children continued chanting.

"FAILURE! FAILURE! FAILURE! FAILURE!" The women, men and children chanted repeatedly in anger.

"NO! I tried! I did!" Andrews yelled. "Go away! GO!"

Immediately, the women, men and children all jumped onto the bed and started violently hitting, pounding, scratching and biting into every part of Thomas Andrews face and skin while continuously yelling the words: "FAILURE! FAILURE! FAILURE!" Thomas Andrews yelled while roughly trying to fight the numerous women, men and children off him.

"NO! NO! GET OFF ME! GET OFF ME!" Andrews yelled through his fighting. "NO!"

THEN -

"NO!" Thomas Andrews yelled through tears as he woke up in his bed, in his Ireland home bedroom, tears streaming from his eyes.

Thomas Andrews looked all around the bedroom, the brightly lit bedroom. He wasn't on the Titanic, he was in his home. He was in his bed, in his home, having yet another nightmare. It was the same nightmare he had every night for months since the Titanic's sinking. It was a nightmare that reflected in his guilt and regret in his thinking that he didn't build a better, stronger ship. As he sat up more in bed and sat back against the bed's headboard, he pulled his knees up to his chest and rested his head on them as light tears clouded his eyes. For so many reasons, Thomas Andrews did feel as if the sinking was his fault. After all, maybe if he had did a little better in building a better ship, things would have been different. Maybe if he had argued a little more on the fact of having more lifeboats on the ship, more lives would have been saved. Maybe - just MAYBE but maybe would never come for Thomas Andrews and because maybe would never come, Thomas Andrews felt like a failure and was plagued with feelings of guilt and regret. They would be feelings that would be left with him for the rest of his life - and perhaps his nightmares would to. At that moment, Thomas Andrews covered his face and broke into severe tears, he was crying so hard, he felt a slight pain circulate through his forehead. It was also at that moment that it was all becoming too much for Thomas Andrews to take - the feelings of sorrow and guilt, the nightmares that grew worst each night. It was all becoming so heartbreaking for him, that he was seriously considering suicide...That's right, suicide, if things didn't get better soon for Thomas Andrews, he was going to put a rope around his neck and end his life. For he was sure, he deserved to die just as the passengers of the ship did. He should have, because after all, in his mind, it was his fault that people died and that the ship of dreams turned out to be nothing more than the ship of doom and tragedy.

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